'Game of Thrones': The war between books and show

HBO
Emilia Clarke as Daenerys Targaryen, who continues her slow but steady march toward the Iron Throne in season four of "Game of Thrones."
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HBO
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"But that's not how it happened in the book."

Sound familiar? That mantra has been bandied about quite often in recent years as television increasingly plumbs -- not always religiously -- popular tomes for source material. From "The Walking Dead" and "Game of "Thrones," to dramas like "Masters of Sex," "True Blood," "Witches of East End," "The VampireDiaries" and others, the list of shows tied to published works goes on and on.

All the while, I continue to be fascinated by the relentless tug-of-war between book and screen and how it affects the way we process what we watch and, in some cases, how it even provokes wide divisions among audience members.

Helen Sloan / HBO
Kit Harington as Jon Snow, whose character comes to the forefront in season four of "Game of Thrones."
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Helen Sloan / HBO
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Nowhere is that tug-of-war more intense than with HBO's "Game of Thrones." Fans still passionately chat up the merits of last season's adaptation of the "Red Wedding," a plot twist that had three characters getting slaughtered in a sudden, cold-blooded act of vengeance.

For days after that episode aired, faithful devotees of author George R.R. Martin's fantasy series nitpicked the scene to death, pointing out all the deviations between his pages and what happened on the screen. But when all was said and done, the general consensus was that the show conveyed the scene's horror, shock and utter brutality in ways that Martin's pages couldn't. Solid job all around.

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This season, however, the show has been justifiably knocked for a glaring departure from the book. In Martin's saga, the scene in question was already highly disturbing: Incestuous lovers Cersei and Jaime have torrid sex in the same room where the corpse of their son, King Joffrey, lies.

Unfortunately, producers David Benioff and D.B. Weiss wrote it as a rape scene, which triggered an avalanche of online fury. Even for a series fueled by vicious acts, this was too much. Critics tore into the scene, citing not only its gratuitous violence, but how it drastically changed the way we felt about Jaime as a character.

It was also a case of horrible timing -- coming when television script writers are being slammed for their over-reliance on rape as a plot device. General consensus? They botched it.

As for Martin, he distanced himself from the scene, pointing out that it changed the "whole dynamic" of what happened in the book. And he expressed regret that it might have "disturbed people for the wrong reasons."

Martin also spoke of how, in the book, the scene was written from Jaime's point of view, so the reader is "inside his head, hearing his thoughts." On the TV show, he said, "You don't know what anyone is thinking or feeling, just what they are saying and doing."

Neil Davidson / HBO
Peter Dinklage, left, and Sibel Kekilli in a photo from season four of "Games of Thrones,' which sees trouble for his character, Tyrion.
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Neil Davidson / HBO
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Controversy aside, it has been somewhat amusing to observe how loyal "Thrones" readers watch and react to the show much differently than those who haven't experienced the books. The pop culture website, avclub.com, has gone so far as to post separate recaps of each episode, one titled for "Experts" who have followed Martin's works, and another for "Newbies" who haven't. The site even has a highly detailed post breaking down the differences between the show and books, if you're into that sort of thing.

I've always been of the mind that books and TV shows are two very different beasts, and that a show should be allowed the freedom to live and breathe on its own. Before the HBO series launched, I read Martin's first book basically as homework. But then I backed off, because I wanted to experience the show as an unvarnished newbie.

In some ways, I think that strategy has enhanced my experience. For example, when the "Red Wedding" aired, I had no preconceived notions of how it would, or should, play out. On the contrary, I never saw it coming. So the jaw-dropping shock was fresh and profound and real. It was a must-feel TV moment.

On the other hand, Martin's saga is so sprawling and epic and complex that some basic familiarity with the books can certainly bolster your understanding and enjoyment of the show. To that end, I'm fortunate to have an aide and translator close at hand: My oldest son, David, is a voracious reader who has consumed every page of the five massive books Martin has published so far.

On Sunday nights, when the family gathers for that week's episode, we'll have David set things up with an explanatory preface. And on the occasions when our brains curl up in the fetal position from "Huh? What?" overload, I'm not ashamed to say that we'll put the show on pause for a moment and have him perform emergency narrative resuscitation.

We've learned the hard way that sometimes it just helps to do things by the book.